Burning Bright
by emperor-of-space
Summary: My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night;But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-It gives a lovely light! -Edna St. Vincent Millay


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, otherwise why would I be on a** _ **Fan**_ **fiction site?**

Burning Bright

 _My candle burns at both ends;_

 _It will not last the night;_

 _But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-_

 _It gives a lovely light!_

 _-Edna St. Vincent Millay_

That poem was one of Alfred's favorites. It came from one of his simultaneously best and worst times in his history. 1920s. Oh the parties were grand and extravagant! But so was the crime. And how carefree he and his people were! But so was the government. In less than a decade it had reached its peak and the stock market crashed. Alfred was as confused and shocked as people and just as sick as his economy. The Great Depression was his depression and even through the mind numbing pain he felt every loss and every helpless cry as if it were his own. Because in a way it was his own. He was so hopeless, he tried to commit suicide only thing that brought him out was WWII. He had a purpose and drive again. But that was years ago. He thinks on it now, how there is nothing to fix what's happened. No "New Deal" could help when you were lying on the ground bleeding out. No bureaucracy could fix the bullet hole. Alfred had taken the bullet for Matthew, out of instinct. He couldn't quite explain how he knew to be right there at the right time to saves him, he just knew he could let anything hurt his older brother. It happened so fast… He hears Matt call his name and through his shaky vision he sees him crying. "Matt, why are you crying? They didn't hurt you did they?" Alfred's voice is quiet and reserved, not like the usual booming voice everyone is used to.

"No… they didn't. But why? Why did you do that? It should be me lying on ground, not you…" Matthew's word trail off as his hands try to fix to futily fix the irreparable damage that bullet caused. He knows it's no use. He has seen his share of battle wound through the years and he knows the outcome of this one. But Matt can't let this happen. It's his baby brother. His other half.

Alfred's vision is blurry and unfocused, and fuzzy around the edges. He looks up at his brother again. "I… don't know. I just had to. Matt, I had to. Please stop crying" The words come out weaker than before, yet the tone is adamant.

Matt does what his brother says and wipes his tears. His brother's normally shining blue eyes are clouded over and hazy. "Why? Why did you did you have to be the hero? If you weren't dying, I'd smack you!" He regrets the words as soon as he says them.

Alfred winces at the words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I should've been a better brother." Tears start falling from his eyes now, mixing with the dirt and blood on his face. He pauses and speaks again, "Mattie, I'm scared."

Matthew is almost hysterical at this point and the use of his nickname nearly sends him over the edge. Al sounds so small, and Matt remembers just how young he is. "I know you are, I am too. But it's gonna be ok Alfie, I promise." Matt uses his old nickname, one he hasn't used in a long time. "I never break my promises. You have to stay calm. Remember when we were little, I went away and you got so scared you cried when you saw me again? I came back, and it was ok. Remember?"

"Yeah" Al's voice is getting progressively weaker.

Matt keeps talking to fill the void and silence. "A-and you were scared of that but you would run outside in a thunderstorm and smile and dance in the rain. You would jump up and down in the puddles trying to reach the sky."

"I remember!" Alfred cracks a small bloodstained grin as he thinks of the fond memory. The grin isn't his usual trademark pristine Hollywood smile, but it's all he can manage. He's straining to stay awake and keep his eyes on Matt.

Matthew knows he doesn't have long. "I l-love you, you hamburger eating gun nut." HIs voice cracks and he lets out a small melancholy smile.

"I love you too, you maple loving hockey freak." Alfred's words are slurring and he drifts in and out of consciousness. He can no longer feel the sting and pain of the bullet and he is losing his sense of touch. He looks up at his brother one last time, as his eyesight fades.

"Al…? Alfred..? Please hold on, just a bit longer."

Alfred barely hears his brother speak, and it's difficult to register even his own name. "Where are you? You sound so far away..." His voice is barely a whisper and hardly audible.

"I'm right here, Alfie. Stay with me!" Matthew is panicking. He can't let it end like thought he had more time. He glances away and sees Arthur and Francis in the distance running toward them. "Please…" He is helpless and can do nothing as he watches Al's shallow breaths, literally die down down. When he realizes Francis's hand is on his shoulder, he breaks down completely. Through the hot tears he sees Arthur kneel down next to Alfred. In true English nature, he tries keeping a stiff upper lip, but his lips quiver and tears escape his eyes. Matthew thinks just how young Alfred was, how he had so much going for him and so much planned. An old proverb comes to him, "The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long." He speaks again, his voice small and hollow, "I never even got to say thank you…"

 **Author's note:**

 **Thank you for reading! This is my first fanfiction. Reviews are greatly appreciated! Please give me feedback on what you liked/didn't like, what I should change and if I made any errors. If anyone wants I can continue this and/or add a prequel. Please let me know! Thanks again!**

 **-Emperor of Space**


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